


The Robber Bridegroom

by artsy_hoe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Cannibalism, Death Eaters, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Female Harry Potter, Non-Graphic Violence, Period-Typical Sexism, Serial Killer Tom Riddle, i cannot believe i read this fairytale when i was 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsy_hoe/pseuds/artsy_hoe
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a potter and his wife, who had a beautiful daughter with raven black curls, piercing green eyes, rosy cheeks, and a charming smile: Harriet. When she came of age, his deepest desire was that she would be well cared for in the future.  James thought, “If a respectable suitor with wealth and chivalry asks for her hand in marriage, I will give her away.”Along came one Tom Riddle: respectable, wealthy, and hiding a dark secret.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	The Robber Bridegroom

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! I hope you all are doing well and you enjoy this lil retelling of the Robber Bridegroom. Let me know what you think and come bother me on my tumblr (idkwhyiexist)!!

Once upon a time, a potter and his wife had a beautiful daughter with raven black curls, piercing green eyes, rosy cheeks, and a charming smile: Harriet. When she came of age, his deepest desire was that she would be well cared for in the future. James thought, “If a respectable suitor with wealth and chivalry asks for her hand in marriage, I will give her away.”

So, like all fathers when their daughters come of age in the Kingdom of Albion, he made an announcement in the town square along with the blacksmith Abbot, whose daughter Hannah had recently come of age. Not long afterward, a suitor expressed interest. He appeared to be relatively prosperous, and because the potter and his wife could find no fault with him, the potter promised his daughter to one Tom Riddle.

While she had agreed to marry Tom, Harriet did not like him as much as a bride should like her bridegroom. For all of his charm, good-natured appearance, and humor, a strange repulsion washed over her whenever his name was mentioned. Harriet did not speak these thoughts, though, because her father’s say was final, and Tom wasn’t a bad fellow to be married off to -- he was only three years her senior, after all, and quite handsome. Her friend Hermione had it much worse, 15, and married to a 30-year-old widower who already had two children. Harriet shuddered at the thought and was immensely grateful that Tom was only 19.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ 

A week before the wedding, Tom said to Harriet, “We are engaged, darling, but you have never once paid me a visit.”

Harriet replied, “I do not know where you reside, my dear.”

Then Tom said, “My house is in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.”

Harriet’s eyes widened at the implications. 

The Forbidden Forest was a terrifying place to be, even at day; light never seemed to peek through the trees unnaturally, and it was eerily silent -- no birds chirped, nor squirrels scampered. Looking for an excuse so she would not have to venture into the woods, Harriet said that she wouldn’t be able to find her way. 

Tom did not take her excuse and instead demanded, “This Sunday, you must come out to my house. I have already invited guests. I will lay a trail of ashes so that you can find your way through the Forbidden Forest and to me.”

Harriet could not refuse her husband-to-be in this world that viewed her as little more than chattel, so with a heavy heart, she bowed her head in obedience and muttered an acceptance of his invitation. Besides, she had spoken with her father, who scolded her for thinking of disobeying her bridegroom and ordered her to visit Tom. 

On Sunday, and when it was time for Harriet to start on her way, she became irrationally terrified, although she did not know why. She took a deep breath and tied her cloak and boots. Harriet adjusted her stays, lit the lantern, picked up her knapsack, kissed her mother goodbye, and headed out the door. Harriet double-checked that the lentils, beans, and peas she had put there to mark the path were still there in her pockets. Gathering her courage, Harriet took the first step into the Forbidden Forest. After her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she scanned around for the trail of ashes Tom had laid out for her. 

Following the path, she studiously ignored the oppressive silence in favor of humming a little ditty she learned from Ginny a few years back, matching her steps to the song’s rhythm. After every beat of the song, and therefore every step, she threw a couple of peas, lentils, and beans to the ground, to the right, and the left. 

Harriet walked the whole day until she came to the middle of the woods, where it was almost pitch black. She took a last, uncertain step forward and felt her shoe hit cobblestone. As she stepped forward again, even more unsure, the forest around her began to light up, the glow coming from a peculiar dwelling in the center of a clearing. Harriet did not like it at all because it looked so evil and sinister. What an odd home to live in, she thought, before shaking her head and walking up to the front door. She knocked once, twice, and then a third time, waiting patiently for Tom to answer in between each rap. 

Suddenly, as she was about to knock a fourth time, a voice called out:

_ Turn back, turn back, you lovely young bride. _

_ Take leave from this foul house where a murderer does reside. _

Harriet looked around sharply, head whipping around, trying to find the source of the noise. Her eyes landed on a magnificent bird on a fir tree with copper, gold, and crimson feathers. It let out a coo, flapped its wings, and cried out again:

_ Turn back, turn back, you lovely young bride. _

_ Take leave from this foul house where a murderer does reside. _

Harriet was unsure of what to do. Did she obey her father and husband-to-be and stay in this wretched, vile house and forest, or did she follow her instincts and the bird seemingly sent by a divine being? Harriet was torn, but eventually, her dutiful side won out, and she entered the home--which was more like a manor--with no small amount of caution. 

The residency seemed unassuming when Harriet entered, so she wandered through the entire home, walking from one room to another, but it was entirely empty. Not a single soul was in the manor. Finally, she reached the cellar and unlocked the deadbolt, painfully aware of how nosy she was but too curious to let that shame win over. There, in the very center, was the only individual in the whole house. It was a sinuous, svelte young woman in the very center, wrapped in a shiny green cloak, tossing logs into a fire underneath an enormous pot that could fit a grown man. 

After Harriet realized the woman did not see her, she asked, “Could you tell me, Miss, if my bridegroom lives here?”

“Oh, you poor child,” answered the woman, “Where did you come from? Why are you here?” 

Harriet was affronted that this woman, not yet into her twenties if her face were an accurate gauge, would call her a child, and was residing in her bridegroom’s house. So, she responded, “I am here to meet my husband-to-be and his friends, pray to tell who you are, why you are here, and why you dare call me a child.” 

The woman looked at her with an aggravating pity before responding, “My name is Nagini; I am far older than you look. And are you sure your bridegroom lives here? Do disclose his name, lovely bride.” 

“I am quite sure Tom Riddle lives here.” 

At that statement, Nagini’s eyes widened with fear, and she said, “You are in a murderer’s manor. You are not marrying a lover, but instead, it is death that you will be marrying. Every time they capture a bride, they have me boil the water in this pot. When they have captured you on your wedding night, they will chop you up into pieces, spice, and salt you, cook you, and then eat you, for they are cannibals and beasts of the worst sort.”

With this, the woman led her behind a large barrel in a corner where Harriet could crouch and could not be seen because a drunken racket from the forest could be heard coming closer. Harriet’s eyes widened in fear, and she scrambled behind the barrel, dousing her lantern, and tried to calm her furiously thumping heart. 

“Be quiet as a mouse,” hissed Nagini, “And do not move or make a sound, or all will be over for the both of us. Tonight when the men are asleep, we will escape to safety.”

Nagini had scarcely whispered the last words when Tom’s brigade, the Death Eaters, came home. They were dragging with them a bound bride, her white dress in tatters, screams, and sobs muffled by a gag. The Death eaters pain that no heed, though, and laughed and jeered as if they were not the foulest filth of humanity.

A tall, burly man only identified by the name Goyle tossed her on the table in the cellar. Then Tom directed a sallow, unctuous looking man with a hook nose walked over to a shelf with only three bottles of wine and grabbed them all along with a crystal goblet. Snape, which was the hook-nosed man’s name, gave her wine to drink, three glasses full, one of each the bottles. On was a thick red wine that looked closer to blood (it probably was), there was a glass of white that shimmered and one glass of sickly bright green, which caused her heart to stop and her body to fall back. 

Dead. 

Tom ordered a slim, aristocratic young man named Lestrange to rip off her fine clothes, and Lestrange did so with glee. Then Lestrange laid her still-warm corpse back on the table and stepped back so an unsettling man with wild curly hair and an equally wild leer could chop her beautiful body in pieces. A man who looked exactly like Lestrange, just with a sharper nose, sprinkled copious amounts of salt and spices all on the pieces. Harriet trembled from her hiding spot behind the barrel, for she saw well what fate the murderers had planned for her once she was to be married.

One of them, this time a greedy man with rat features, noticed a gold ring on the butchered bride’s pinkie. He tugged and tugged and tugged, but it would not come off, so Pettigrew took his axe and swiftly chopped the finger off. It didn’t quite go as planned because the finger with the ring flew into the air and over the barrel, falling right into Harriet’s lap. She muffled a cry of terror and started at the finger with horror, which only increased when Pettigrew took a lantern and looked for it but could not find it.

They searched the room from head to toe while Nagini cooked the poor girl into a stew, chopping vegetables and adding spices, a slender dirty blonde youth who looked far too young to be involved with this helping her. They were just finished when a Death Eater Harriet could not identify said, “Did you look behind the large barrel?”

But Nagini, remembering the shivering bride behind the large barrel, cried out, “Come and eat, food is ready. You can continue to look in the morning, that finger cannot run away from you, but the food will get cold.”

The Death Eaters nodded and agreed, only sitting down to eat when Tom said, “Nagini is right; let us dine.” 

They then gave up their search and sat down to eat bride stew and mulled wine laced with nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, and a sleeping draught. Soon the murderers slumped over the table and fell asleep, snoring.

When Harriet heard them snoring, she crept out from behind the barrel and tiptoed out of the cellar, wincing every time her shoes scuffed the dirt floor. She was petrified that she might awaken one of them, but divine intervention helped her, and Harriet got through safely and climbed up the ladder to the main home.

Nagini went upstairs with her, opened the door, and they hurried out of the murderer’s manor as fast as possible.

The trail of ashes had been blown away by the wind -- probably the reason Tom chose ashes, Harriet thought -- but the peas, beans, and lentils had sprouted, and the tiny green shoots showed them the way in the moonlight. They walked all night, arriving at Harriet’s home the next morning. The potter opened the door, surprised to see how scared Harried looked and that there was another girl with her. He ushered them and called for his wife. When they were all seated, Harriet told her father everything, just as it had happened.

While her father believed her, there was nothing he could do about the wedding other than to have them proceed, but if they made a scene at the wedding, then they could divert Harriet’s loathsome fate. 

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ 

When the wedding day came, a celebration feast occurred before the ceremony where each guest and the bride and groom were asked to tell a story. Despite Harriet’s unease, she laughed, clapped, and cried when it was expected of her to do so.

Then Tom said to Harriet, “Come, darling, tell us a story, like the others have done.”

She smiled, slow and sly, and began to tell them, in vivid detail about her dream, “I was walking alone through Forbidden Forest, when finally I came to a manor, eerie and wicked. Inside there was not a single person throughout the whole forest and house, and a phoenix in the woods cried:

_ Turn back, turn back, you lovely young bride. _

_ Take leave from this foul house where a murderer does reside. _

Then the phoenix cried out the same thing again.” 

When Tom began to look nervous, she reassured him that it was only just a dream before continuing, “Then I walked through all the rooms, on every floor. They were all empty, with only the dusty furniture inside, and there was something so frightful about the house. Finally, I went down to the cellar, and standing there was a beautiful, snake-like woman, shaking her head and tending to a fire with a massive pot on top.” 

Harriet smiled eerily and said, “I asked her, ‘Does my bridegroom live in this house?’ and then she answered, ‘Poor child, you are in a murderer’s manor. Your bridegroom does live here, but he is not your lover, rather he intends to chop you to pieces, and then he intends to cook and eat you.’”

Tom looked very nervous, indeed, so Harriet reassured him again that it was only a dream and resumed telling her story, “After that, the woman hid me. I had scarcely concealed myself there when the criminals came home, dragging a bride no older than 15 with them. They gave her three kinds of wine -- or poison -- to drink: white as pearls, red as blood, and green as death, which caused her heart to stop beating.”

Again, Harriet consoled Tom by saying that it was only a dream, but his anxiety and anger drew the guests' scrutiny. Harriet inwardly smirked and said, “After that, they took off her wedding dress, and chopped her body to pieces on a table, then salted and spiced them. My love, it was only a dream.” 

She halted to drink from her goblet and started again, “Then one of the murderers noticed that there was a ring on her little finger. Because the ring would not budge, he took an axe and chopped off the finger. The finger flew through the air going all the way behind the large barrel, and it fell into my lap.” 

Harriet dramatically paused and then said, “And right here is that very pinkie finger.”

With these words, Harriet pulled out the finger and showed it to all of her horrified guests. 

Tom, who had become as white as chalk, jumped up and tried to escape with his Death Eaters, but the guests held him fast and immediately dragged him to their lord for execution. For their shameful, wicked deeds, all of them were given the same green poison they used to kill, and Harriet and Nagini watched with grim satisfaction as they each dropped dead. 

For her noble deeds, Harriet was offered a ladyship as the wife of a neighboring heir, Draco Malfoy. She gratefully accepted and lived her days in wealth as a fair, strong ruler, with a kind, loving husband who she learned to love him and him, her. 

The End. 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you all think? Should I have worked on my 100000000000 WIPs? Of course. Do I regret not doing so and writing this fun little oneshot? No, not at all. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you have a great day!! <3 <3


End file.
